The War of the Worlds
by Light Seeker 001
Summary: A novelized version of Jeff Wayne's musical. And my first story.
1. Prologue

Copyright: H.G. Wells, Orson Welles (no relation), George Pal, Jeff Wayne and Steven Spielberg

Prelude  
The elder walked across the barren landscape of Mars in his tripod, heading toward the city's center, where the meeting was to take place. He glanced around. The world was dying, and yet somehow they managed to survive for centuries. Amazing wasn't it? He finally arrived at the Council's temple, exited the vehicle, walked down a series of halls, found the meeting room and he opened the door, just in time to witness one of his kind, dead and bleeding from the orifices and the tentacle limbs were spread out and unmoving. He took his place on the throne that sat on a high pedestal. There were two more of his kind there with him, sitting on thrones similar to the one he was on.  
The meeting had begun. "The age of disillusionment and decay is over," the first elder, the one we were following said. "I have never before witnessed a mass telepathic execution, but today the remnants of our society have displayed their disheartenment and desperation. They have judged the Senior Elder to be ineffectual and have terminated his appointment in the harshest manner. The gravity of our situation is extreme." They looked down at the body of the Senior Elder being carried off to the incinerators. Back to business.  
The second spoke up, "Mars is incapable of sustaining life. Efforts to sustain the biosphere and atmosphere have failed. Our water tables have depleted, temperatures decrease annually and our populations dwindle in numbers." The third elder began to speak, "We have arrived at the final consequential course of action: the conquest and occupation of Earth, our young sunward neighbor." The second elder spoke again, "Earth is abundant with life, and the natural resources our ancestors have squandered upon are bountiful. The environment will seem uncomfortable but not inhibitive." The third spoke, "The problem is of course the humans. They have developed primitive intelligence, yet their young society remains structured around perpetual conquest and conflict. A rapid offensive to their social and economical heart should prevent any significant opposition." The first spoke had his chance to speak again, "The means and methods for this attack are already being realized. A large scale hydrogen accelerator will be constructed. This will launch suspension pods carrying the assault forces."  
The elders watched holographic videos of their new weapons being tested. A heat ray fired at a mountain, crumbling it to pieces. In a chamber was a humanoid Martian in a pod that filled with black smoke, suffocating the Martian to death. These Martians, the Inferiors, the "superior" Martians called them, were enslaved centuries ago and were used as a slave and nourishment source.  
The fist elder spoke as he stood, "We have not needed such destructive weaponry for over 5,000 years, but modifications to our modern technologies will take place and should prove adequate in defeating the inferior human defenses." Then he said the words that would seal the deal: "It is time for Mars to thrive again on Earth's unprotected soil."


	2. The Eve of the War

No one would have believed in the last years of the nineteenth century that this world was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than man's. No one would have dreamed that we were being scrutinized and studied like a scientist watching billions of microorganisms in a drop of water through a microscope. Few people even considered the possibility of life on other planets. Yet across the gulf of space, intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic, regarded this earth with envious eyes, and slowly and surely drew their plans against us.  
Mars is more than 140 million miles from the sun. For centuries it has been in the last stages of exhaustion. At night, temperatures drop far below zero, even at its equator. The inhabitants of this dying planet looked across space with instruments of which we have scarcely dreamed, searching for another world to which they could migrate. They could not go to Pluto, farthest of all planets, and so cold that its atmosphere lies frozen on its surface. They couldn't go to Neptune or Uranus, twin worlds in eternal night and perpetual cold, both surrounded by an unbreathable atmosphere of methane gas and ammonia vapor. The Martians considered Saturn, an attractive world with its many moons and rings of cosmic dust, but its temperature is close to 270 degrees below zero, and ice lies miles deep on its surface. Their nearest world was giant Jupiter, with giant cliffs of lava and ice, with hydrogen flaming at the tops where the atmospheric pressure is terrible. Thousands of pounds to the square inch. They couldn't go there, nor to Mercury, nearest planet to the sun. It has no air and the temperature at its equator is that of molten lead. Of all the worlds the life forms on Mars could see and study, only our own Earth was green with vegetation, bright with water, and possessed a cloudy atmosphere eloquent of fertility. It did not occur to mankind that a swift fate might be hanging over us. Or that from the blackness of outer space we were being scrutinized and studied until the time we drew close to Mars' orbit, during a pleasant summer...

At midnight on the twelfth of August, a huge mass of luminous gas erupted from Mars and sped towards Earth. Across 200 million miles of void invisibly hurtling us came the first of many missiles that would bring huge calamity to Earth. I was at Olgivy's observatory when I saw the first of the missiles heading towards us. As I watched, there was another jet of gas. It was another missile starting on its way. That's how it was for the next ten nights; a flare spurting out from Mars bright green, drawing a green mist behind it. A beautiful, yet, somehow disturbing sight. Ogilvy, the astronomer, assured me we were in no danger. He was convinced there could be no living thing on that remote, forbidding planet.

"The chances of anything living on Mars are a million to one," he said.  
"The chances of anything living on Mars are a million to one."  
But still they come.

Around the city, everything was going by their daily lives, but no one had any thought of what was to come. Then came the night the first missile approached Earth. It was thought to be a shooting star. There was a huge earthquake that awoke everyone from their slumber. There was an orange glow in the direction of Horsell Common near Woking. A crowd had gathered around a large metallic object. It all seemed so safe and tranquil. Everyone came over to examine what lay there, a cylinder 30 yards across and glowing red-hot. There were faint sounds of movement within. Suddenly the top began moving. It was rotating and unscrewing like there was a man inside trying to escape the confines. Ogilvy rushed forward but the intense heat stopped him before he could burn himself on the metal.  
"My God!" shouted a young woman. "Aliens!" "No," shouted another man. "It can't be! There's no such thing!" "Then how do you explain this?!" shouted a young boy. "It's nothing," shouted a scholar. "It's probably just a funny looking asteroid." Then a bickering started, debating on whether or not there was something in there.

"The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million to one," they said.  
"The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million to one."  
"But still they come!" the other group shouted.

"Yes, the chances of anything coming from Mars are a million to one," they said.  
"The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million to one."  
"But still they come!"

I did not partake in the bickering but continued to stare at the unscrewing cylinder. Suddenly, a young boy tripped and he found himself right in front of the monolith, and I sighed in relief that he did not get burnt. At that point, everyone stopped arguing and started to yell at the boy this time. "Get out of there!" someone shouted. "You stupid idiot," another screamed. "What do you think you're doing?!" The cylinder continued to unscrew itself, and the boy ignored their screams, too mesmerized at the sight. I jumped down and managed to get him out of the pit, but before I left, I gave one last look at the behemoth.  
It seems totally incredible to me now. Everyone spent that evening like it was just any other. From the railway station came the sounds of shunting trains ringing and rumbling softening into melody in the distance. It all seems so safe and tranquil.


	3. On Horsell Common and the Heat Ray

Ch 2: On Horsell Common and the Heat Ray  
The next morning a crowd gathered at the Common, hypnotized by the unscrewing of the cylinder. Suddenly two jets of green light shot out and the lid fell off. The Earth shook as the heavy lid hit the ground. A nearby building lost all its windows and cracks formed on its walls. Something that resembled a vine or a grey snake grasped the edges, then another, and then another. Two luminous disc like eyes appeared above the rim, and a huge, brownish, rounded bulk bigger than a bear rose up slowly, glistening like wet leather. Its lipless V shaped mouth quivered and salivated and its tentacles moved and writhed as the heaving body pulsated. People screamed and some ran way. My guess is they were expecting a man to come out of there. If this was a man, then it was no man of our species.  
The creature tried to get up, but it fell to the ground, making a hooting sound. I knew that if this thing from space was a native of Mars, then their bodies must not be used to the gravity that is heavier than their own planet. More of the tentacled creatures came out of the cylinder, using a crane-like claw to lift their comrade back into the monolith.  
A few young men crept closer to the pit, one of them, whom I recognized was Ogilvy was waving a white flag. "We're friends," I heard them say. "We welcome you!" They are foolish, I thought. A tall humped shaped funnel rose and then an invisible ray of heat leaped from man to man and there was a bright glare as each was instantly turned to fire, they screamed as they burnt. Every tree, everything that was touched by this evil unearthly heat ray burnt and became an inferno.  
The crowd screamed and started to disperse. It was complete and total confusion as the heat ray started firing randomly and sweeping into the crowd. There was a smell of burning and burnt flesh in the air as well as hundreds of screaming people. It made a horrible noise, like a rumbling noise but darker. People felt like they were being toyed with, when they thought they were safe...the heat ray burned them into oblivion.  
At last I reached Mayburry Hill and in the dim coolness of my home I wrote an account for my newspaper before I sank into a restless, haunted sleep. I woke to sounds of alien sounds hammering from the park. I hurried to the railway station to find out anything and bought a paper. Around me the daily routines of life: Working, eating, sleeping was continuing normally as it has for countless years. At the Common the Martians continued hammering and stirring, sleepless indefatigable at the machines they were making. At random intervals, a beam of light like a warship's searchlight swept the park and the heat ray was ready to follow. It fired again, again, again, again, again, again and again. No one dared to approach. In the aftermath, a company of solders came through and deployed on the edge of the Common. At evening, there was a violent crash, and I realized with horror that my home was in range of the Martians' heat ray. At dawn a shooting star with a green trail approached. This was the second cylinder.


	4. In the Storm

Ch 3: In the Storm  
It began to rain the next day, but the lightning and thunder did nothing to block out the alien sounds. The hammering from the pit and the sound of guns grew louder I panicked a little to the sound of someone creeping into the house. I sighed as a young man, an artilleryman by the looks of him appeared, weary, streaked in blood and dirt. "Is anyone there!" he shouted, his voice hoarse. I opened the door and allowed him in. He sat on a couch in a slump. I returned from the kitchen with a water bottle. "Drink this," I said. He gulped the water greedily and his voice was clear. "What happened?" I asked him. He looked shaken, then he stuttered, "They wiped us out, hundreds, no thousands dead!" "The heat ray?" I asked. "The Martians," he went on. "They were in the woods with these machines they made! Massive metal things on legs! Giant machines that walked! They attacked us, wiped us out!" He choked a sob.  
Machines? I wondered. "Machines?" I asked out loud. He nodded. "Fighting machines! Picking up soldiers and throwing them around!" He stopped for a minute to finish his drink. "There was another cylinder last night," I said. "Aye, I saw one of them heading for London." My eyes widened. No! "Carrie!" I hadn't dreamed that they'd be a danger to Carrie and her family so far away. "We must go to London at once." I exclaimed. The artilleryman nodded. "And me...I have to report to headquarters...if there's anything left of it." There was an abandoned horse-drawn carriage, and with no alternative used it as our means of transportation.  
At Byfleet, we came across an inn, only to find that was deserted. "Is everybody dead?" the artilleryman asked. "Not everybody...look six cannons with men standing by." I said. "Bows and arrows against the lightening," he said. "They haven't seen the heat ray yet." We traveled down the road to the Weybridge but there was an explosion. The ground heaved, Windows shattered, gusts of smoke erupted in the air. The shaking earth sent us flying; the horse died upon impact. "LOOK, THERE THEY ARE," the artilleryman yelled pointing at something. He tripped, nearly hitting a downed tree. "WHAT DID I TELL YOU?" After another earthquake, the artilleryman shouted, "Follow me! They'll never find us! Quick! Quick!" I followed the fleeing soldier and I saw a silhouette that loomed over us both. I turned and my eyes widened.  
Quickly, one after the other, four of the Fighting Machines appeared. The things that I saw! How can I describe them? Monstrous tripods higher than the tallest steeple, striding over the pine trees and smashing them. Walking engines of glittering metal, articulated ropes of steel writhing from them and a clattering tumult of their passage mingling with the riot of thunder. Behind the main body was a huge mass of white metal like a gigantic fisherman's basket, and puffs of green smoke squirted out from the joints of the limbs as the monsters swept by us.  
Each machine carried a huge funnel and I realized with horror that I had seen this awful thing before. A fifth machine appeared over the bank. It raised itself to full height, flourished the funnel in the air and the ghostly, terrible heat ray struck the town. As it struck, all five Fighting Machines exulted, emitting defining howls which roared like thunder, forcing everyone to cover their ears. ALOO! ALOO!  
ALOO! The artilleryman and I ran through the debris that began to fall on top of us; paused for brief moments to watch the battle. To our amazement, the cannons were actually damaging them! ALOO! A crowd of survivors on a hill witnessed the destruction before joining the artilleryman and I in our escape. ALOO! The six guns that were seen before now fired simultaneously, decapitating a Fighting Machine. The Martian inside it was slain, slashed to the four winds, and the body, nothing now but an intricate device of metal, fell to destruction. As the other Machines advanced, everyone scattered about, the artilleryman among them, but I jumped into the river and ducked down until forced to the surface for air. The guns spoke again but this time the heat ray sent them to oblivion. The Martians howled again. ALOO!  
The heat ray swept across the river. Scolded, half blinded and agonized, I staggered from the hissing water towards the shore. Suddenly, I fell in full sight of the Martians. I closed my eyes and waited for the obviously slow and painful death. The foot landed close to me, frozen in fear. The foot lifted as the Martians carried away the remains of there fallen comrade. I realized, by miracle...I had escaped.

**(I used the original content from the book to describe the tripods. Try to think of them as a mixture of the fighting machines from the 1953 movie, Jeff Wayne's musical and Steven Spielberg's movie made in 2005. I own none of the content in this story except the text i added.)**


	5. The Exodus from London

For three days I fought my way along roads packed with refugees, the homeless, burdened with boxes and bundles containing their valuables. All that was of value to me was in London, but by the time I reached their little red brick house, Carrie and her father were gone. I was in despair as I left the house, and I could see as I wandered aimlessly, homeless people and children and suddenly, I saw…my brother! We embraced each other. "You ass," my brother chuckled. "Where the hell were you?!" "Surviving," I said. My brother sighed. "Listen. I know where Carrie is headed. The docks!" My eyes were swept with tears. "Then there's still a chance!" My brother nodded. "Quick! We have to go before the boats leave!"

The summer sun is fading as the year grows old,  
And darker days are drawing near,  
The winter winds will be much colder,  
Now you're not here  
I watch the birds fly south across the Autumn sky,  
And one by one they disappear,  
I wish that I was flying with them,  
Now you're not here  
Like the sun through the trees you came to love me,  
Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away  
Through Autumn's golden gown we used to kick our way,  
You always loved this time of year,  
Those fallen leaves lie undisturbed now,  
'Cause you're not here  
'Cause you're not here  
'Cause you're not here

Fire suddenly leapt from house to house, the population panicked and ran – and my brother and I were swept along with them, aimless and lost without Carrie. Finally we headed eastward for the ocean, and our only hope of survival – a boat out of London. I could see far out in the distance, another Martian tripod carrying a long black tube. Something shaped like a canister burst out. When it landed, black smoke sprayed the surrounding area, suffocating everything in its path. I noticed that birds were circling high above the Martian. I hypothesized that the smoke must have been so dense and heavy that it couldn't reach high places. When the dead dropped, the Martian sprayed jets of steam, removing the smoke and turning it into thick black dust that covered the area. Then it continued to walk onward, shooting the heat ray and more of the black smoke canisters.

Like the sun through the trees you came to love me,  
Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away  
A gentle rain falls softly on my weary eyes,  
As if to hide a lonely tear,  
My life will be forever Autumn,  
'Cause you're not here  
'Cause you're not here  
'Cause you're not here

As we hastened through Covent Garden, Blackfriars and Billingsgate, more and more people joined the painful exodus. Sad, weary woman, their children stumbling and streaked with tears, their men bitter and angry, the rich rubbing shoulder with beggars and outcasts. Dogs snarled and whined; the horses' bits were covered with foam. And here and there were wounded soldiers, as helpless as the rest. We saw tripods wading up the Thames, cutting through bridges as though they were paper – Waterloo Bridge, Westminster Bridge. One appeared above Big Ben and howled. ALOO!  
Never before in the history of the world had such a mass of human beings moved and suffered together. This was no disciplined march – it was a stampede – without order and without a goal, six million people unarmed and unprovisioned, driving headlong. It was the beginning of the rout of civilization, of the massacre of mankind. The little boat's whistle rang everyone's ears. A vast crown buffeted me toward the already packed steamer. I looked up enviously at those safely onboard – straight into the eyes of my beloved Carrie! At sight of me she began to fight her way along the packed deck to the gangplank. At that very moment it was raised, and I caught a last glimpse of her despairing face as the crowd swept me away from her. Suddenly, my brother jumped just before the gangplank fully raised and landed onto the deck. "What are you doing?" I shouted. "Don't worry about us," he shouted back. "I'll make sure she's fine. You can make it to us! I know you can!" He shouted something else, but I couldn't hear him over the crowd.

Like the sun through the trees you came to love me,  
Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away  
Through Autumn's golden gown we used to kick our way,  
You always loved this time of year,  
Those fallen leaves lie undisturbed now,  
'Cause you're not here  
'Cause you're not here  
'Cause you're not here

**(In the original novel, the narrator had a brother (whose name is never mentioned). Also, for some strange reason, Jeff Wayne left out the black smoke's function in his musical. It's there, but he never explained how it worked. Again, I own none of the material here)**


	6. The Thunder Child

ALOO! The steamer began to move slowly away, but on the landward horizon appeared the silhouette of a Fighting Machine. Another came, and another, striding over hills and plunging far out to sea and blocking the exit of the steamer. Between them lay the silent, grey ironclad torpedo ram, "Thunder Child". Slowly she moved towards shore; then, with a deafening roar and whoosh of spray, she swung about and drove at full speed towards the waiting Martians.

There were ships of shapes and sizes  
Scattered out along the bay, and I thought I heard her calling,  
As the steamer pulled away!  
The invaders must have seen them,  
As across the coast they filed;  
Standin' firm between them,  
There lay Thunder Child!

Moving swiftly through the waters,  
Cannons blazing as she came,  
Sent a mighty metal warlord,  
Crashing down in sheets of flame!  
Sensing victory was nearing,  
Thinking fortune must have smiled,  
People started cheering,  
"Come on Thunder Child!"  
"Come on Thunder Child"

The Martians released their black smoke, but the ship sped on, cutting down one of the tripod figures. Instantly, the others raised their heat rays, and melted the Thunder Child's valiant heart. Burning, she somehow managed charge at full speed, ramming into the third and final Fighting Machine, toppling it over and taking it with her.

Lashing ropes and smashing timbers,  
Flashing heat rays pierced the deck,  
Dashing hopes for our deliverance,  
As we watched the sinking wreck!  
With the smoke of battle clearing,  
As degrading waves defiled,  
Slowly disappearing,  
Farewell Thunder Child,  
Slowly disappearing,  
Farewell Thunder Child!  
Farewell Thunder Child,  
Farewell Thunder Child!

Sailors jumped from the burning and sinking ship and swam towards the steamer while others landed in the water on life boats. When the smoke cleared, the little steamer had reached the misty horizon, and Carrie and my brother were safe. But the valiant Thunder Child had vanished forever, taking with her man's last hope of victory. The leaden sky was lit by green flashes, cylinder following cylinder, and no one and nothing was left now to fight them. The Earth belonged to the Martians.

The Council watched as the human defenses fell along with everything else. The first elder spoke, "The human resistance is shattered, their persistent insurgency terminated. We are preparing for the migration. Soon we shall farm and feast upon these animals and a new era of peace and planting will follow." The third elder announced to all, "The humans are running, disorganized, their society collapsed. The Earth is ours to take." As for the survivors? Well, there was nothing to do about them except watch them and be entertained. After all, that's the only thing they're good for now. The elders watched as a Fighting Machine loomed over Buckingham Palace and howled. ALOO! The Fighting Machine fired its Heat Ray, setting it aflame.

**(The last paragraph is from the PC game. Again, I own nothing except the text I added.)**


	7. The Earth under the Martians

Where was I? I had no idea. All I know is that after the Thunder Child's sacrifice, I wandered about until I came across an old shack in a corn field. I stayed there for the night. My dreams were plagued by the Martians as well.  
Next day, the dawn was a brilliant, fiery red and I wandered through the weird and lurid landscape of another planet; for the vegetation, which gives Mars its red appearance, had taken root on Earth. As Man had succumbed to the Martians, so our land now succumbed to the Red Weed. Wherever there was a stream, the Red Weed clung and grew with frightening voraciousness, its claw-like fronds choking the movement of the water; and then it began to creep like a slimy red animal across the land, covering field and ditch and tree and hedgerow with living scarlet feelers, crawling! Crawling! I felt my stomach growl and seeing no other option I tried to take a bite out of the red vegetation, but…I spat it out. It tasted like metal.

**(Author's notice: The red weed was a native plant from Mars and came with them when the Martians arrived. It wasn't created by using human blood as a fertilizer like in the 2005 movie.)**


	8. How I fell in with the Curate

I suddenly noticed the body of a curate, lying on the ground of a ruined churchyard. I felt unable to leave him to the mercy of the Red Weed and decided to bury him decently. There was an open, unmarked grave nearby and I decided that would be the place. But before I could pick him up… "Nathaniel! Nathaniel!" That sudden female voice made me jump! A survivor! The curate's eyes flickered open. He was alive! A woman came running towards the curate. "Nathaniel! I saw the church burst into flame! Are you all right?"  
There was an insane look in his eyes as he pushed her away. "Don't touch me!" "But it's me - Beth. Your wife." He backed away from us. "No. You're one of them. A devil!" Beth was concerned as she spoke to me. "He's delirious!" Nathaniel spat, "Lies! I saw the devil's sign!" "What are you saying?" He pointed upward. "The green flash in the sky. His demons were here all along - in our hearts and souls - just waiting for a sign from him. And now they're destroying our world!" Beth tried to reason with the curate. "But they're not devils - they're Martians." I put a hand on her shoulder. "We must leave here." She nodded. "Look, a house still standing! Come, Nathaniel, quickly!"  
We took shelter in a cottage and Black Smoke spread, hemming us in. Then a Fighting Machine came across the fields, spraying jets of steam that turned the smoke into thick, black dust. ALOO! The Martian's howl startled some rats living under the floorboards and they fled their homes in fear. "Dear God - help us!" Beth exclaimed, then her husband shouted in an insane manner, " The voice of the devil! It's heard in our land!" I looked back at the curate in concern. I noticed a loose brick in a wall, and I knew that if this gets ugly, I knew what had to be done.

NATHANIEL: Listen, do you hear them drawing near in their search for the sinners?

Feeding on the power of our fear and the evil within us!

Incarnation of Satan's creation of all that we dread!

When the demons arrived those alive would be better off dead!

BETH: There must be something worth living for!

There must be something worth trying for!

Even some things worth dying for!

And if one man can stand tall,

There must be hope for us all!

Somewhere, somewhere, in the spirit of man!

NATHANIEL: Once there was a time when I believed without hesitation.

That the power of love and truth could conquer all in the name of salvation.

Tell me what kind of weapon is love, when it comes to the fight?

And just how much protection is truth against all Satan's might?

He grabbed and shook me, demanding the answer to his insane question. Idiot, I thought. This is not the work of any God or Satan, and it's beyond the Bible's work. I pushed him aside and he landed on his back. Beth glared at me before kneeling down next to him.

BETH: There must be something worth living for!

There must be something worth trying for!

Even some things worth dying for!

And if one man can stand tall,

There must be some hope for us all!

Somewhere, somewhere in the spirit of man!

Beth put a hand on the curate's shoulder. "People loved you and trusted you, came to you for help," she said in a soft voice, but the curate pushed her away and looked at us angrily. "Didn't I warn them this would happen? Be on guard, I said. For the Evil One never rests. I said exorcise the devil! But no, they wouldn't listen. The demons inside them grew and grew, until Satan gave his signal, and destroyed the world we knew!" She slapped him hard in the face. He started to cry.

BETH: No, Nathaniel!

Oh no, Nathaniel!

No, Nathaniel, no.

There must be more to life.

There has to be a way

That we can restore to life,

The love we used to know.

No, Nathaniel, no.

There must be more to life.

There has to be a way

That we can restore to life,

The light that we have lost.

For a moment, the curate seemed to have listened to reason as I saw peace in his face. He smiled as the two of them embraced. But it did not last. The Fighting Machine's footsteps got closer and the curate's eyes widened as it walked close to the house. He shoved her away from her, continuing his rant.

NATHANIEL: Now darkness has descended on our land and all your prayers cannot save us!

Like fools we've let the devil take command of the souls that God gave us!

To the altar of evil like lambs to the slaughter we're led!

When the demons arrived, the survivors will envy the dead!

BETH: There must be something worth living for!

NATHANIEL: No, there is nothing!

BETH: There must be something worth trying for!

NATHANIEL: I don't believe it's so!

BETH: Even some things worth dying for!

If just one man could stand tall,

There would be some hope for us all!

Somewhere, somewhere in the spirit of man!

The curate continued with his rant as I grabbed the brick and walked toward him. "Forget about goodness and mercy - they're gone. Didn't I warn them? Pray I said. Destroy the devil, I said. They wouldn't listen. I could have saved the world. But now it's too late. Too late!"

BETH: No, Nathaniel!

Oh no, Nathaniel!

No, Nathaniel, no.

There must be more to life.

There has to be a way

That we can restore to life,

The love we used to know.

No, Nathaniel, no.

There must be more to life.

There has to be a way

That we can restore to life,

The light that we have lost.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash and the earth around us shook violently. Outside, another cylinder landed right next to us, and more Martians got to work on their machines. "Dear God! A cylinder's landed on the house! And we're underneath it – in the pit!" shouted the curate. The Martians spent the night making a new machine. It was a sort of metallic spider with five jointed, agile legs, and with an extraordinary number of jointed levers, bars, and reaching and clutching tentacles about its body - but it, too, had a hood in which a Martian sat. It moved so much like a living animal that I had to keep reminding myself that the only thing that was alive about this metal spider was the Martian piloting it in the hood. I watched it pursuing some people across a field, herding them toward the nearby Fighting Machine which caught them nimbly and tossed them into the great metal basket upon its back. But the curate was too busy sobbing to care. I saw Beth's motionless body under the mess of wood, cement and bricks. "Beth! She's dead! Buried under the rubble! Why? Satan, why did you take one of your own?"

There is a curse on Mankind!  
We may as well be resigned  
To let the devil; the devil take the spirit of man!

Later, I began to see the metallic spider, this handling machine getting to work on a form of a building structure. It was as if the new machine was designed for construction purposes. From that moment, I realized they were doing something we humans have done for centuries: invading other lands, settling down on them and destroying any natives that got in their way. As time passed in our dark and dusty prison, the curate wrestled endlessly with his doubts. His outcries invited death for us both - and yet I pitied him.

**(Author's notice: I used the original design from the novel to describe the handling machine. It didn't capture humans like it did in the musical. That was the tripods' job. And the Parson Nathanial wasn't a parson in the book, but a bachelor curate whose name is unknown. I don't own any of the content except the text I added)**


	9. The Death of the Curate

Ch 8: The Death of the Curate  
Then, on the ninth day, we saw the Martians eating. Inside the hood of their new machines, they were draining the fresh, living blood of men, women, children and animals and injecting it into their own veins. I hypothesized that perhaps the Martians had no real digestive systems like humans and animals and so they had to inject the fluids of other living things into their own bodies for nourishment.  
Suddenly, the curate let out a loud scream. He's going to give us away! "It's a sign! I've been given a sign! They must be cast out and I have been chosen to do it. I must confront them now!" "No, Nathaniel no!" I shouted. I began to fight him, wrestled him to the ground and tried to gag his mouth, but he punched me in the head and continued his rant. "Those machines are just demons in another form! I shall destroy them with my prayers! I shall burn them with my holy cross! I shall –" I grabbed a cleaver hanging from the wall and with whatever humanity I had left, hit him hard in the head with the knife's handle before he could finish his rant. The curate fell to the ground with a loud thud.  
The curious eye of a Martian appeared at the window-slit, and a menacing claw explored the room. I dragged the curate down to the coal cellar. I buried myself under a pile of coal and waited, stone still and eyes wide. I heard the Martian fumbling at the latch and the door opened. In the darkness I could see the claw touching things; walls, coal, wood, and then it touched my boot! I almost shouted! For a time it was still and then, with a click, it gripped something. The curate! With slow, deliberate movements, his unconscious body was dragged away... and there was nothing I could do to prevent it.  
A day passed I think. It's hard to tell in the darkness of cellars. I crept to the blocked window-slit and peered through the creeper. The Martians and all their machinery had gone! Trembling, I dug my way out and clambered to the top of the mound. Not a Martian in sight! The day seemed dazzling bright after my imprisonment, and the sky a glowing blue. Red Weed covered every scrap of ground, but a gentle breeze kept it swaying and oh, the sweetness of the air!

**(I don't own any of the material here)**


	10. The Man on Putney Hill

Ch 9: The Man on Putney Hill  
Again, I was on my way to London, through towns and villages that were blackened ruins, totally silent, desolate, deserted. Man's empire had passed away, taken swiftly and without error, by these creatures who were composed entirely of brain. Unhampered by the complex systems, which make up man, they made and used different bodies according to their needs. They never tired, never slept and never suffered, having long since eliminated from their planet the bacteria, which cause all fevers and other morbidities.  
I arrived at Putney Hill, lost in thought. Suddenly, the silhouette of a man jumped out of a hill of rubble and aimed his rifle at me. "Halt! Who goes there?" "Er - friend." I said. He gestured me to leave. "Be on your way. This is my territory." "Your territory? What do you mean?" Suddenly, the man on the hill stopped, and lowered his gun. I recognized him when he came into the dim light. "Wait a minute - it's you! The man from Mayburry Hill!" "Good heavens! The artilleryman! I thought you surely burned." "I thought you surely drowned."  
"Have you seen any Martians?" I asked. The artilleryman no longer smiled. "Everywhere. We're done for all right." "We can't just give up." I commented. He nodded. "Course we can't. It's now we've got to start fighting - but not against them 'cos we can't win. Now we've got to fight for survival, and I reckon we can make it. I've got a plan." "A plan?" I asked. "Come!" said the man, and I followed him past the rubble and corpses as he explained his idea.  
"We're gonna build a whole new world for ourselves. Look, they clap eyes on us and we're dead, right?" I nodded. "So we gotta make a new life where they'll never find us. You know where? Underground. You should see it down there - hundreds of miles of drains - sweet and clean now after the rain; dark, quiet, safe. We can build houses and everything, start again from scratch." I gave him a confused look. "So you're saying that we either die by Martian Machines on the surface, or spend the rest of our lives as rats in a sewer, or a mole living under the dirt?" The artilleryman stopped and turned to face me. "And what's so bad about living underground, eh? It's not been so great living up here, if you want my opinion." He shook his head and I continued to follow him.

ARTILLERYMAN: Take a look around you at the world we've come to know

Does it seem to be much more than a crazy circus show?

But maybe from the madness something beautiful will grow

In a brave new world

With just a handful of men

We'll start - we'll start all over again!  
All over again!  
All over again!  
All over again!

He led me to a ruined house as he continued to talk of his plan, "We'll build shops and hospitals and barracks right under their noses - right under their feet! Everything we need - banks, prisons and schools. We'll send scouting parties to collect books and stuff, and men like you," he pointed at me. "Will teach the kids. Not poems and rubbish; science and math, so we can get everything working. We'll build villages and towns and-and we'll play each other at cricket!"  
The artilleryman continued, "Listen, maybe one day we'll capture a Fighting Machine, eh? Learn how to make 'em ourselves and then…wallop! Our turn to do some wiping out! Whoosh, with our Heat Ray! Whoosh! And they're running and dying, beaten at their own game! Man on top again!"  
Then the artilleryman smiled at that idea and I can see by the look in his eyes that he was daydreaming of taking down some Fighting Machines and men on Earth making them their own, blasting the Martian Fighting Machines with Earthling Fighting Machines.

ARTILLERYMAN: Now our domination of the Earth is fading fast

And out of the confusion the chance has come at last

To build a better future from the ashes of the past

In a brave new world

Give me a handful of men

We'll start all over again !

Look - man is born in freedom but he soon becomes a slave

In cages of convention from the cradle to the grave

The weak fall by the wayside but the strong will be saved!

In a brave new world With just a handful of men

We'll start all over again

I'm not trying to tell you what to be

Oh no, oh no, not me

But if mankind is to survive

The people left alive

They're gonna have to build this world anew

And it's going to have to start with me and you

Yes!

I'm not trying to tell you what to be

Oh no, oh no, not me

But if mankind is to survive

The people left alive

They're gonna have to build this world anew

Yes and we will have to be the chosen few

Just think of all the poverty, the hatred and the lies

And imagine the destruction of all that you despise

Slowly from the ashes the phoenix will arise

In a brave new world

With just a handful of men

We'll start all over again

Take a look around you at the world you've loved so well

And bid the aging empire of man a last farewell!

It may not sound like Heaven but at least it isn't Hell It's a brave new world

With just a handful of men

We'll start - we'll start all over again!

I've got a plan!

We stopped at a doorway. "Can't you just see it?" continued the artilleryman. "Civilization starting all over again - a second chance. We'll even build a railway and tunnel to the coast; go there for our holidays. Nothing can stop men like us. And women I guess. I've made a start already. Come on down here and have a look." In the cellar was a tunnel scarcely ten yards long that had taken him a week to dig. I could have dug that much in a day, and I suddenly had my first inkling of the gulf between his dreams and his powers. "It doesn't look much," I admitted. "It's only the building blocks," said the man. "But with a few more people like us, our new world will be a reality!" I had my doubts that this man could actually make an underground utopia, but I humored him. He sat down and pulled out a bottle of champagne from a box. "It's doing the workin' and the thinkin' that wears a feller out. I'm ready for a bit of a rest. How about a drink eh? Nothing but champagne, now I'm the boss."  
We drank and then he insisted upon playing cards. With our species on the edge of extermination, with no prospect but a horrible death, we actually played games. Later, he talked more of his plan, but I saw flames flashing in the deep blue night. Red Weed glowing, tripod figures moving distantly - and I put down my champagne glass. I felt a traitor to my kind and I knew I must leave this strange dreamer.

ARTILLERYMAN: Take a look around you at the world we've come to know  
Does it seem to be much more than a crazy circus show  
Maybe from the madness something beautiful will grow...

"Wait, where are you going?" I turned to face him. "I'm sorry, but you have to finish your project without me." I expected the artilleryman to get angry, but to my surprise, he shrugged his shoulders and said, "Suit yourself." I could tell that he was disappointed.

**(Sounded promising, did it? Not! I own none of the content in this story except the text I added.)**


	11. Dead London

Ch 10: Dead London  
There were a dozen dead bodies in the Euston Road, their outlines softened by the Black Dust. All was still, houses locked and empty, shops closed - but looters had helped themselves to wine and food, and outside a jeweler's some gold chains and a watch were scattered on the pavement. ULLA! I stopped, staring toward the sound. It seemed as if that mighty desert of houses had found a voice for its fear and solitude. ULLA! The desolating cry worked upon my mind. The wailing took possession of me. I was intensely weary, footsore, hungry and thirsty. Why was I wandering alone in this city of the dead? Why was I alive, when London was lying in state in its black shroud? I felt intolerably lonely, drifting from street to empty street, drawn inexorably towards that cry. ULLA! I saw, over the trees on Primrose Hill, the Fighting Machine from which the howling came. I crossed Regents Canal. There stood a second machine, upright, but as still as the first. Next to me was a patch of red weed, dried up and withered. I picked it up and crumbled it in my hand as it turned into dust.  
UUUUUUULLLLLLLAAAAAAaaaa… Abruptly, the sound ceased. Suddenly, the desolation, the solitude, became unendurable. While that voice sounded, London had still seemed alive. Now suddenly, there was a change, the passing of something - and all that remained was this gaunt quiet.  
I looked up and saw a third machine. It was erect and motionless, like the others. An insane resolve possessed me. I would give my life to the Martians, here and now. I marched recklessly towards the titan and saw that a multitude of black birds was circling and clustering about the hood. I began running along the road. I felt no fear, only a wild, trembling exultation, as I ran up the hill towards, the motionless monster. Out of the hood hung red shreds, at which the hungry birds now pecked and tore.

"The chances of anything living on Mars are a million to one," we said.  
"The chances of anything living on Mars are a million to one."  
But still they come.

I scrambled up to the crest of Primrose Hill, and the Martians' camp was below me. A mighty space it was, and scattered about it, in their overturned machines, were the Martians, slain by the putrefactive and disease bacteria against which their systems were unprepared; slain as the Red Weed was being slain; slain, after all man's devices had failed, by the humblest things that God, in his wisdom, has put upon this earth. Directly the invaders arrived and drank, breathed and fed; our microscopic allies attacked them. From that moment - they were doomed!

"The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million to one," we said.  
"The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million to one."  
But still they come!

"Yes, the chances of anything coming from Mars are a million to one," we said.  
"The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million to one."  
But still they come!

The torment was ended. The people scattered over the world, desperate, leaderless, starved... the thousands who had fled by sea -including the one most dear to me - all would return. The pulse of life, growing stronger and stronger, would beat again. As life returns to normal, the question of another attack from Mars causes universal concern. Is our planet safe, or is this time of peace merely a reprieve? It may be that, across the immensity of space, they have learned their lessons and even now await their opportunity. Perhaps the future belongs not to us - but to the Martians?

The Council members' eyes widened. So close! And yet…they lost to something so small?! It was…unacceptable! "Today is a black day indeed," began the first Elder. "We had never imagined that the Earth's bacteria would be the cause of our demise. We were so close, and yet, the micro-organisms that are unfamiliar to us has destroyed us." Everyone was still trying to take in what had just happened and were getting angrier by the minute. "The invasion has exhausted most of our resources, but a new offense will be engineered," the second elder said. "Perhaps another planet may suffice," the third elder replied. "But now," began the first elder, knowing what may come. "I must face the nation."

**(What will happen next? Also, the Martians didn't make the "ULLA" sound until they began to die. I don't own any of the material.)**


	12. Wreckage

Wreckage  
Humanity, at its best, did rebuild, but with a new wave of fear. Every once in a while, if there is a shooting star, there is panic. But it won't last for much longer. The Martian technology was salvaged by the government, and studied, but no reports of how they worked were released to the public. The Martians themselves were also taken in to be studied and it was there that scientists learned how they breathed, ate, and speak to each other. They also learned how they reproduced: by budding and separating like sea sponges.  
Perhaps the Martians did learn their lesson though, and maybe found another planet, such as Venus. If they did, they would be surprised to find that Venus has unbreathable atmosphere of sulfur and has a surface temperature of over 400 degrees and that no living creature could exist on its lava carved surface. Perhaps, if there is another wave, we might be ready.  
Before the cylinders fell there was a general persuasion that through all the deep of space no life existed beyond the petty surface of our minute sphere. Now we see further. Dim and wonderful is the vision I have conjured up in my mind of life spreading slowly from this little seedbed of the solar system throughout the inanimate vastnesses of sidereal space. But, a remote dream it may be. It may be that the destruction of the Martians is only a reprieve. To them, and not to us, is the future ordained perhaps. Strange it now seems to sit in my peaceful study at Mayburry Hill writing down this last chapter of the record begun at a common in Woking. Strange to watch children playing in the streets. Strange to see young people strolling on the green, where the new spring grass heals the last black scars of a bruised earth. Strange to watch the sightseers enter the museum where the dissembled parts of a Martian machine are kept on public view. Strange when I recall the time when I first saw it, bright and clean-cut, hard, and silent, under the dawn of that last great day.  
And strangest of all is it to hold my wife's hand again, and to think that I have counted her, and that she has counted me, among the dead.

**(Writer's notice: Ladies and gentlemen, please show your appreciation for Jeff Wayne, and the cast of his fantastical musical, Orson Welles for his history changing radio drama, George Pal for one of the first movie adaptations, Steven Spielberg for remaking the classic, and Herbert George Wells for writing an unforgettable novel.)**


	13. Epilogue

The Epilogue  
Later, in the 20th Century...

PASADENA CONTROL: It's looking good. It's going good. We're getting great pictures here at NASA Control, Pasadena. The landing craft touched down on Mars 28 Kilometers from the aim-point. We're looking at a remarkable landscape, littered with different kinds of rocks - red, purple... How 'bout that, Bermuda?

BERMUDA CONTROL: Fantastic! Look at the dune-field.

PASADENA CONTROL: Hey, wait. I'm getting a no-go signal. Now I'm losing one of the craft. Hey, Bermuda, you getting it?

BERMUDA CONTROL: No, I lost contact. There's a lot of dust blowing up there. PASADENA CONTROL: Now I've lost the second craft. We got problems.

BERMUDA CONTROL: All contact lost, Pasadena. Maybe the antenna's...

PASADENA CONTROL: What's that flare? See it? A green flare, coming from Mars, kind of a green mist behind it. It's getting closer. You see it, Bermuda? Come in, Bermuda! Houston, come in! What's going on? Tracking station 43, Canberra, come in Canberra! Tracking station 63, can you hear me, Madrid? Can anybody hear me? Come in! Come in…!


End file.
